Kitchen Conversations
by The Munch
Summary: Its break time at the SPK Headquarters, and the resulting conversation can be quite amusing. Just some harmless semi-fluff.


**So.... here's another oneshot fic from Fire ^^ (Or The Munch, rather). Its just some drabbling on the account of Gevanni and Lidner from the SPK, and I hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, Gevanni, Lidner, or anything to do with it... I wish I did ^^ **

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"So, this is where you disappeared off to," an amused female voice said from the doorframe. The room was the main "kitchen" of the SPK Headquarters, though the room seemed to reek of misuse. It had been designed like a kitchen that would be used in the café or main dining area of a corporation like those that were housed in the buildings surrounding it. The SPK was a relatively undercover organization, however, and thus it did not employ this places as an eatery for the agents or have any cook (or chefs, really) to use it. The building had merely been picked for its location and technology, probably a mask of its true contents, and Near wouldn't want any more people occupying it than necessary. It was also highly unlikely that any of the agents who were working in the headquarters had the desire, skills, or time to use it to cook for everyone else. The agents who had worked there, would be a more accurate statement. Due to unforeseen circumstances, however, the number of agents working in the building had been drastically cut.

The two people in question, both the one entering now and the one who had been there, were part of the limited staff left in the building. The raven-haired male who had been in the kitchen was, in fact, in the midst of pulling out pots and various utensils in order to prepare something that was most likely some kind of food. He looked up, smiling slightly at the intrusion of his colleague.

"We don't usually get this much free time, and I would prefer not to eat take out again," he responded by way of explanation. He went back to work sorting through things, pulling out more as he went. It was amazing this place was even stocked with these types of cooking supplies, considering it never seemed to have been used before, and it seemed unlikely that expenses would be put out for tools that would never really be used. Bags of groceries betrayed that he had been to the grocery store recently to buy the ingredients for whatever it was he was going to make.

"I'm surprised, Gevanni. I wouldn't have pegged you as a man who knew how and wanted to cook," she responded, tone betraying her amusement at the discovery.

"My mother insisted I learn the "old family recipes", and since then I haven't appreciated any other Italian cooking," he responded, still on the move as he began to sort out the food ingredients on the counter. He looked up for a moment, only to grace her with a smile, one of the few he had been able to give since arriving at the headquarters. "You're welcome to join me if you want. IT's got to be better than whatever we'll order for dinner," he added, casting her a slightly hopeful, slightly amused glance.

"That confident in our cooking, are we?" the blonde asked, allowing a small chuckle, "But I would love to join you and sample the ever-elusive Gevanni's hidden knack for cooking." A smiled placed across Lidner's face, both in the set of her mouth and in the way he amber eyes glowed. It was odd, the ease with which they spoke now even in the midst of the dire situation they were in. They had not known each other before they were both called to work on the Kira case as part of the SPK, and it wasn't even as if they had ever had an intimate or lengthy personal conversation. Perhaps it was surviving, being one of the proud few who had lived through the massacre that gave them this newfound closeness. It made things at least bearable, to know that someone else was there along with you.

"Maybe I am," the man responded, now starting to take food and ingredients and put them together into one of the bowls as the recipe too shape. With this, any thought of what could have followed the statement disappeared, lost in the cooking he was now doing. After all, he couldn't mess up now when it was someone else's dinner as well. He really didn't want to gain a bad reputation of his cooking with a person whom he barely knew and now had to work with. He had a feeling if that happened he would never hear the end of it…

Halle made herself comfortable for the wait, sitting down on one of the stainless steel countertops that was unoccupied, amber eyes watching the young man working in front of her. It was a rather casual scene for two people normally stuck under such business-like, formal circumstances. It could almost have been any two friends gathered to spend time together, except for the fact that they were in an industrial-sized kitchen in the middle of a New York skyscraper fighting a mass murderer. Almost. Such things could only be hoped for.

"So… where did you come from to be here?" she asked, trying to break the silence, as well as hopefully break some ground into getting to know each other.

"I lived in Chicago. Been there my whole life 'til I was asked to come here," he responded, still mixing and blending, creating some kind of food. Faint aromas began to waft from the ingredients and the bowl, a sign of the things to come. "From one big city to the next… and you?"

"Boston," she said, letting the slightest smile grace her lips, "Another bit city kid, though not as big as Chicago or New York. I've spent time living in D.C. as well before this."

"Ah..," he said by way of response, now measuring out the butter and salt that would get mixed in to the recipe, a considerable amount in the making of any meal.

"That's quite a bit of butter and salt..," Halle commented, watching as he did so.

"Its how much the recipe calls for, and its how much I've always used," he responded, obviously not fazed by the amounts of each as he slid both into the bowl of accumulating ingredients. He mixed them in with equal nonchalance.

"That's incredibly unhealthy. Do you know what that could do to you? It looks like could be enough to make a small elephant gain weight," she responded, slightly surprised and slightly disgusted by it.

"I've been eating this way for as long as I could eat regular food and it's never really affected me before," he responded with a shrug. He still pressed onward, not any more fazed by the ingredients being added than before.

"I don't understand how some could stand to eat food like that all of the time," she responded, her tones disdainful.

"I don't eat like this all of the time," he responded, pouring the contents of the bowl into a pan sitting on the stove, promptly turning the burner to a simmer so that the contents would not burn or boil. "The food we normally eat when we order out is probably worse anyway. And it's called a high metabolism. Some people have them, you know," he added, turning to face her now that he was done preparing the food for the moment.

"Yes, well those metabolisms tend to die," she responded, swinging her legs to pop off the counter into a once ore standing position. The effect was almost child-like, giving Gevanni a chance to chuckle at both that and the previous statement. Halle, with her own amused smile, walked over to stand in front of her younger colleague. "And when it does… this," she said, prodding his stomach, which was currently rather toned from the physical training of the job, with a finger, "… will turn into flab."

"Are you suggesting I am going to get fat?" he asked, chuckling and obviously finding the conversation amusing.

"Maybe I am," she responded, finger still resting on his stomach where she had prodded him. "You're not that far off from thirty, Mr. Stephen Gevanni. You know what they say… When a man turns thirty, his metabolism starts to go and then his waist line expands." She prodded him again, punctuating her point. Despite her tone, her eyes gave away her own amusement at the subject and situation.

"I think I will take my chances," he responded, chuckling still. Her warning or threat appeared to mean very little to him. He certainly wasn't taking the conversation very seriously.

"Alright then," she said, shrugging with a playful smirk, "but you'll be the one who ends up a fat little old man."

This cause him to break out with a roar of laughter, and it took a few moments for him to recover. "Really now?" he chuckled, still amused by the declaration. "In any case, I am going to enjoy the meal when it is finished. If you're worried about your figure or the fat, then you don't have to eat it. I'm sure Rester would love to have your share," he responded, stepping back and turning to inspect the food which had momentarily been forgotten.

"Now I never said I didn't want to eat it," she responded, watching him as he set about work again, moving on to the next step in preparing the food. "One meal won't hurt. I'm curious to experience this cooking you seem so smug about," she explained, once more taking a seat on an unoccupied counter.

"Well alright then," he said, continuing his work. "But I will not be held liable for any weight gained. That'll be your fault." And with that, silence fell over the pair as he continued his cooking.

FIN.

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**Hope you enjoyed! Please review, I would really love it!**


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